


The Lady of Blacklock Hall

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Gardener Bilbo Baggins, Gothic Au, Happy Ending, Illnesses, Isolation, M/M, Modern Gothic au, Overprotective Thorin, Protective Thorin, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Survivor Guilt, Thorin is Guilt-ridden, gardener au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is hired as Gardener to a very odd, eccentric Lord and his family.  It should be a simple assignment ... but there is something strange going on that no one will tell him about.And why is no one allowed in the upstairs East Wing?  Especially as he could swear someone is watching him.





	The Lady of Blacklock Hall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aquileaofthelonelymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/gifts), [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [nerdeeart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nerdeeart).



> I've taken a bit of The Hobbit, a touch of The Secret Garden, a pinch of Rebecca, a dash of Jane Eyre and mixed it all up!

* * *

 

**BLACKLOCK HALL**

_(Trerice House, Cornwall, England)_

 

* * *

 

 

            Thorin Durin, Earl of Erebor, Lord Durin to his family, sat at his desk working late into the evening as was usual. “Has Gloin gotten back to us?” Thorin asked, not looking up from the document he was quickly reading before signing.

            “He has, milord,” Balin said, reaching out and taking the now signed document and handing Thorin another. “The transfer of the funds is complete and said he will continue to monitor the company’s progress.”

            “I hope his efforts prove worthwhile.”

            “Indeed.”

            “And Balin,” Thorin said, signing the document Balin had just handed him. “When we’re alone, you _can_ call me Thorin.”

            Balin raised an eyebrow as he took the signed paper. “I doubt that would be appropriate.”

            Thorin sighed but left it alone; it was an old argument, not worth having again.

            “Will there be anything else, milord?”

            “No,” Thorin said, rolling his shoulders, sitting back and removing his glasses. He gently squeezed the bridge of his nose, hoping it would relax him.

            “Very good, milord,” Balin said as he turned to go. But he took only a step before he stopped and turned around. “Actually, there is something else.”

            Thorin looked up, waiting for Balin.

            Balin cleared his throat. “All work on the house is completed now.”

            Thorin nodded. “Yes. It looks good.” It had taken a few years, three in total, but the house had been restored, upgraded and decorated to its original glory; his great-grandmother would be so pleased. “Bifur has done a beautiful job overseeing the project.”

            “Yes, he has,” Balin said, clearing his throat again but didn’t comment further.

            Thorin knew Balin too well; there was more. “Just say it, Balin.”

            Balin licked his lips, saying, “With the house completed ... I do believe it’s time the gardens and grounds were seen to.”

            Thorin closed his eyes. The one thing he did not want to discuss was the garden. It could be burned to the ground and plowed over as far as he was concerned. Yet to everyone else, that very idea would go down like a cup of cold sick. “Can Beorn not do it?”

            Balin shook his head. “Not only has he no eye for gardening, or so he says, but he stated he has zero interest in being in charge.”

            “Could we force him to do it?” Thorin asked, half joking.

            But Balin didn’t even crack a smile. “Not unless you want him to quit on the spot.”

            “No.” Thorin did not want that. “Do you or anyone else have someone in mind?”

            “Well ... none of us know of a suitable candidate, but ...”

            Thorin had a sinking feeling come over him.  "Don't say it!"

            Balin remained silent and looked anywhere but at Thorin.

            Finally, Thorin heaved out another sigh, resigned. “Fine. Say it.”

            “Gandalf Grey has someone.”

            Thorin hung his head. “Of course he does.”

            “Says the man is perfect for the job.”

            “Perfect.”

            “Says he’s known him for years.”

            “No doubt.”

            Balin said no more, but when Thorin didn’t respond, he asked, “Shall I tell Gandalf ‘no’ and that we will continue our search alone?”

            Thorin drummed his fingers on his desk, weighing the options. If he said no, and they hired their own choice, something would happen, something unforeseen, something odd, something mysterious - like Voldermort's curse - and that person would leave. And then the next. And the next. They would go through probably half a dozen gardeners, nothing would get started, or at least completed, and Gandalf would come back and suggest his own all over again and they would have no choice at that point but to give in. But if they went with his idea right off, the old man would end up meddling more and more.

            “Fine,” Thorin decided. “Tell Gandalf we will try out his man and see. If it doesn’t work out, then we will have the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so’ and go hire our own.”

            Balin nodded, but asked, “And ... what if his man works out?”

            “We’ll see,” Thorin said, his teeth already on edge.

            “Very good, milord.” Balin gathered his things and made to leave. Thorin voiced stopped him at the door.

            “What’s this ... _person’s_ name that Gandalf wants to saddle us with?”

            “Baggins,” Balin said. “A Mister Bilbo Baggins.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

            “Baggins,” Thorin parroted, under his breath. Thorin sat back and stared hard into the burning fireplace. _We’ll see how long he lasts._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those who think I got Thorin's Peerage wrong ... I will explain in the next chapter.


End file.
